


Moon's Bane

by TheForgottenSheikah



Category: The Strain (TV), The Strain Trilogy - Guillermo del Toro & Chuck Hogan
Genre: Celtic Mythology & Folklore, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, F/M, Multi, Slow Burn, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-10-14 23:13:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10545958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheForgottenSheikah/pseuds/TheForgottenSheikah
Summary: Strigoi aren't the only creatures that go bump in the night.~ 9/24/17 Indefinite hiatus~





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yup, here I am again. This has been on my dash for long enough and needs to see the light of day. I cannot grantee a proper updating schedule as I am putting much more study into this unlike my others. Plus, I'd like to see more badass ladies in the field of OCs. 
> 
> This is just a prologue, it does not foreshadow the length of any future chapters.
> 
> Takes place half way through Season 2.

It was day seven into this hell of blood and corrupted souls. The _strigoi_ -munchers Fet had come to nickname them, did not show any signs of slowing down. They spread their disease worse than rats. Heeding to the pull, the pawnbroker described it, and infecting their loved ones then moving onto the next feeding frenzy.

Vasily Fet looked down the thinning roads of Brooklyn. Already stores had been broken into, homes wrecked with panic, and the streets in a fiery state of crashed cars and abandoned vehicles. In just a week since the plane's landing, New York had begun to fall.

Despite the mass difference of numbers between the leeches and them, the rag tag group of people: a Holocaust survivor, two docs straight outta the CDC, a brat, an exterminator, and now a hacker; they didn't give up hope. But Fet could tell underneath the professor's persistence, he was getting discouraged.  
Hope was diminishing into shimmering ashes ...

So far into this plague, not once had any of them caught a glimpse of the monster the old man swore to be the center of the infection. The Master, he raved on and on about, was the source. It was the one they needed to locate and destroy, not waste time to concoct a vaccine.

Feeling useless on either front, Fet and the hacker ventured out to clear some of the surrounding buildings. It wasn't much but it beat sitting on their asses listening to Eph and the prof bicker back and forth.

"Oi, you all right?"

Vet snapped out of his thoughts and turned to face the blond Brit with smoky eyes who tagged along after the gas station fiasco. This gorgeous woman and her band of computer nerds were the ones who killed the phone towers and knocked the internet right back into 90's. Smart and beautiful, oh yeah, Fet might have some trouble on his hands.

"Yeah... yeah, just thinkin'," He answered with a grin.

It was returned with those sea shell pink lips curving into a sly smile. "If you say so."

Fet rubbed the back of his neck, the area growing warm. Oh boy, this one was definitely gonna be trouble.

"Ready to kill some blood suckers?" Dutch asked, the English drawl apparent in her words.

He nodded, ready to follow those mischievous green eyes anywhere. She winked and marched up the stone steps to the back entrance of the apartment complex. She jostled the cool handles with a huff. The double doors were sealed shut both by key and chain.

Fet cleared his throat and peered around the woman. "Allow me?"

She pursed her pouty lips. He shrugged with the piece of rebar he had picked up before leaving his city truck to ruin. "Go ahead then, big boy."

He shoved the trusty rod between the doors and pulled. The jam groaned and creaked until it popped open. The rancid scent of the _strigoi_ assaulted their noses. Dutch gagged, putting a sleeved arm over her mouth.

"Come on, let's go." Fet mumbled, going in first.

The pair sneaked inside through the maintenance office and into the seemingly deserted housing. The bottom floor remained in a kept appearance, but that didn't mean much. It only meant a lot of people crammed into tiny quarters made easy prey for the parasites to spread.

Surprisingly there no sickly pale and sunken faces snarling them a welcome. If any earlier clearings made anything evident, these freaks didn't like intruders. They ascended to the first floor.

Now the further they drew within, the more the signs became apparent.

Personal items scattered amongst the trash that littered the hallways. Doors were broken off the hinges or smashed inwards. Yet there was a most important factor missing from this chaotic theory: _strigoi._

"Where the bloody hell are the buggas?" Dutch hissed, keeping a sharp eye out regardless of the vampires absence.

"Maybe they cleared out..." Fet mumbled, taking in all the damage.

Little by little they advanced. Fet began to pick out the alternations in the pattern the suckers normally followed. Sure there was clues of struggle and even some suicides, but shells from guns lay hidden in the debris left behind. If Fet hadn't been searching so closely, he may have missed them. He knelt to snatch one up.

The serial number was recognizable but the casing was off. He squinted. Was that silver...?

Police had no inkling what they were dealing with so it ruled them out. Had there been a tenate believing the same mumbo jumbo like the professor? This didn't add up and Fet didn't like it. Thin hairs rose on his arms and neck as he scanned the hall.

If someone did give'em hell, then where are the all bodies?!

"Fet..." The hacker whispered.

She had gone ahead of him. Her stature frozen at the top of the stairs. Fet frowned and pocketed the shell. He quickly joined Dutch on the second floor, going to ask her what was wrong when horror stopped him dead.

The formerly tan carpet was soaked with crimson and stark by the range of multiple bodies that covered the floors. Turned, to in the process, and seemingly completely human corpses lay utterly desolated. Whatever came barreling through here, these guys had no chance.

It looked like a battle zone! Fet and Dutch carefully sidestepped about the lifeless bodies, weary of the strain lurking in the spilt blood.

"Do you see the walls?" She whispered aghast, green orbs wide.

"Uh huh," The crappy wallpaper painted thickly with oozing white matter that dripped onto the floor. It looked like a freakin' battle zone!

Fet crept closer to the gory walls, trying to identify what was used to take down human and _strigoi_ alike. A scattered spray decorated the paneling. He traced one bullet hole with his index finger. This was the handy dandy worked of a shotgun. Possibly a double barrel sawed off.

Definitely wasn't New York's finest....

"Holy shit, who do you think did this?" Dutch's voice quivered slightly.

He swallowed. "Someone you don't mess with."

"What if they're alive? Friendly?" Dutch stared down at the fallen bodies mouth agape at the continuing horror show.

If the ones, or one, were still alive they'd be badass for sure. Friendly though? Fet felt the coil of dread wind up in his gut, the feeling that never failed him. But they dared to find out.

The two reached the third floor and their minds changed on hoping to meet up with this mysterious aslant. Dozens more corpses laid motionless across the ruined ground. Faces slashed to ribbons. Limbs harshly torn from the connecting bone and muscle. Some of the bodies were even ripped totally in half.

Dutch went pale and ducked into a room, throwing up.

Fet urged his lead filled legs forward. Obviously someone believed the gun was not flashy enough. Skulls had been smashed in by a heavy force. Brain matter and blood of red and white splattered against the wallpaper.

A gargled hiss captured Fet's shaken attention.

Newly formed claws sank into the splatter of gore as a _strigoi_ crawled towards him with its mutated guts trailing behind it. Its torso may have been separated from its lower half but the need to hunt still stirred in the unnatural creature. Glassy ruby eyes finally locked onto Fet. A nasty squeal hissed through its fangs.

Fet set his jaw and stomped over to the horrid thing. Its stinger chirped delighted as he came closer. However that happy noise turned into a screech of fear and pain as the rod of rebar came down upon its head; successfully beating its bald cranium in.

Retrieving the goo covered weapon with a shake, Vasily glanced over to where it had dragged itself from.

The hallway had gone utterly dark. No evidence of light or life to be seen. Except the flicker of lighting from the approaching storm. He swallowed, uneasy.

Grabbing a hold of the UV flashlight attached to his backpack, he shone the beam down. The area glowed with the chemical markings of _strigoi_ yet something more disturbing grasped his eye.

"What the hell?"

The harsh blue light revealed a print inked by the shed blood. Although, what made it had Fet in a bewilderment. There was no freaking way...

"Fet, are you-" Dutch peered from behind his arm. "What the hell is that?!" 

* * *

The first stages of a storm passing through Brooklyn. Rain effectively wetting all out beneath the rumbling clouds that covered the entirety of the city. The patter of droplets and thunder rumbles were welcome in the dead silence of the foyer.

It was early into the night for some, late for others. Most Stoneheart employee shifts had ended a few hours ago, leaving all but security and the cleaning crew. Which made her presence rather out of place.

Emma was the grand company's newest addition, replacing the former receptionist that had allowed two armed individuals to pass. Normally, she would have clocked out by eight o clock but being fresh into this type of job, Emma had fallen behind on paperwork and wished to finish before it was noticed.

It was rare for any rookie to land a job at any high paying locations yet Emma struck luck on being hired at Stoneheart. Stoneheart! Of all the companies in the New York they had picked her! Emma typed at quicker pace, eager to wrap it all up. She had an impression to make!

During her heavy concentration, Emma failed to hear a person wander inside.

A heavy palm slapped down on the fine wood desk, thusly startling the young woman.

"Ah!" She yelped, the wheeled chair rolling backwards a bit.

Emma knit her brows together once her heart settled down. She glared at the intruder's offending and calloused hand until she lifted her blue grey eyes. Surprise lit up her face. This wasn't the typical type of man one would usually meet in the city.

He reminded Emma of a grizzly bear: tall and broad shouldered, warm olive skin and ruffled dark brown hair that fell beneath his pierced ears. His wardrobe was a mix of style. Dress pants with steel toe boots and worn white collar that was covered by a trench coat with a fur-lined hood.

The strange but quite handsome fellow, in Emma's opinion, removed his rather large hand off the counter.

"My apologizes if I scared you." He smiled, the warmth reaching his peculiar coloured eyes. Emma thought it was as if someone had melted pure silver and poured in the iris. The trend to use contacts was popular it seemed.

Emma flushed at his deep voice, the accent thick his words. Was he from Europe? It didn't sound like any she heard before unless it was cheesy horror movie featured in Romania or somewhere similar.

"It-it's all right! But I'm afraid there are no more appointments this evening. Mr. Stoneheart has retired for the night, sir." She informed, standing from the chair. "I'm sorry but I have to ask you to leave."

He sighed, craning his neck with an expression devoid of noticeable thought and emotion.

Emma had been yelled at already by past patrons, this man wouldn't be any different. She shifted her gaze, uneased by his blank stare, to see a long strand of braided hair; woven with beads and ending with a tarnished charm at the end. The secretary wasn't able to distinguish it from the lighting.

"I see. That is an issue for some, I'm sure. But," He reached forward and gripped her chin between his index finger and thumb. "Such restrictions do not apply to me. You see, I am an acquaintance of Thomas Eichhorst."

Emma shivered at the name. She'd directed him a handful of times. The man was creepy and unpleasant however well his manners.

"We do not show up on your schedule, my dear." He increased the pressure of his fingers, pressing into the skin.

"I'm sorry! I didn't know." Emma gestured with her eyes to the elevators, pleading. "Go right ahead!"

He appeared satisfied, releasing his hold. Although he did linger a bit. Those unnatural eyes kept looking in her own, as if he were studying her. His thin lips turned up in a lazy smile.

"Your eyes, they remind me of one I used to know." He tone grumbled with appreciation.

Emma blinked. "Oh?"

"Hmmm, yes. Beautiful." He walked away towards the lift without uttering another word or glancing back.

Once the doors closed with a merry ding, Emma released the held breath caught in her chest. She cupped her warmed face, giddy yet confused.

What just happened?!

* * *

 

Bets were placed. The ground shook as bodies hit and fell. Cheers and boos echoed alongside pounding fists and clinging ale filled mugs. This was entertainment at its purest state.

A mass of men and women gathered around the caged platform risen in the middle of the drinking establishment; all baiting their fighters on for victory to put more euro in their pocket. It was an old pub built on the cliff side of Ireland, welcoming generations and generations of peculiar folk.

Two people dodged back and forth, trading blows. Welts rose up on their skin and blood trickled from cuts from nails and teeth. A right hook fired, but skimmed just the cheek bone of the male; the sharp digit slicing the flesh open ever so slightly.

The grazed opponent growled lunging with a tight and powerful left retaliation. It hit the mark and caused the other to stumble in reverse, holding their stomach. Shaking off the sick feeling, they set up another attack.

A fed up bellow shook the audience as a fist collided with the opponent's already bruised profile. The blow landed successfully knocking back to the grown man into a corner. He quickly put his forearms to guard against the oncoming onslaught. Two jabs turned into four more until a snarl, then a swift punch to the lower gut. The man grimaced and lowered his defense for a split second.

Dark lavender eyes narrowed, concentrated as the chance revealed itself.

A toned arm rose and came barreling down on the man's crown, effectively knocking him to the blood stained floor. He let out pained roar as he dropped. His footing became sloppy due to the hit. He fumbled to regain his stance.

The leading opponent knelt and scooped his body up and around their shoulders. He flailed in attempt to get off but it was too late. They dug their grip into his thighs and threw him off with all their strength. His back struck the ground, shuddering throughout the ring.

"Payback is a bitch, ain't it mate?" A tall woman spit a wad of blood from their mouth dirty floor.

He groaned but remained unresponsive. The countdown began. Hollers of excitement and anger mixed into one great loud sound. The female stood unwavering as the number slowly reached to ten. She had won another round and was still undefeated.

"Briannah! Briannah!" The crowd chanted in triumph while a few sore losers growled and spat her name.

A mock salute went out to the masses as she hopped off the stage and strode towards the back. Employees were the only ones allowed this way but Graham enjoyed a thicker roll of cash in his pocket from her fights and let it slide. She kept a bag stored with a spare set of clothes and towel.

She nabbed the item and meandered into the restroom to assess and clean the damage. The spotless white porcelain sink had spots of red on them now as Briannah leaned over and stared into the mirror. Big unnatural eyes peered back from the glass.

Purple eyes wandered over her square face, over the freckles that spotted her cheeks and down her arms. A fiery spout of hair waved in licks of flame. It was always an untamable mess, sticking out even when she pulled back into a bun. She wasn't considered ugly yet not viewed in a beautiful light either.

Men called her pretty, average, worth the lay at least. She didn't care about the remarks. Briannah got what she wanted from them and parted ways without thinking twice. The woman had yet to find a significant other that was worth the trouble of relationship building.

Shoving off the rim after cleaning up the mess inflicted by her opponent, Briannah meandered her way back to the front.

The fighter sighed and ordered her usual. A glass slid smoothly over the polished surface and into her waiting palm. Two cubes of ice floated in the rich amber liquid that warmed her insides. The bourbon stung sweetly as it went down but it was a welcome sensation, like an old friend and their comfort.

Her relaxation did last long. The bartender grumbled lowly as he bent to retrieve something stashed beneath the cast iron register. She watched, half hoping it was not meant for her. She was so damn tired already.

"A contract has arrived for ya, lass." Brom rumbled, passing over a vanilla envelope.

Briannah's glass lowered from her bruised lips, hitting the oak bar with a clink. _Bastards._

She grasped the package and sliced it open with her rather sharp nails. Inside a single sheet of freshly pressed paper lay. A scent clung to the scrap, one she recognized. The tips of her nails slid the assignment out into view.

Her dark gaze at the printed location.

New York City?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is incredibly short but I couldn't think of much else to put in this chapter honestly.

"What the actual fuck is all this then?"

A brow rose in morbid shock at the state the city was crumbling to. She'd heard stories of New York, place was like a box of frogs, but the ramblings were not even on point. It had been such a pain in the ass to land in this area she shouldn't have been surprised.

A puff of cigarette smoke rolled from her nostrils out into the crisp air.

It was a lovely cool breeze compared to back home. She loved the winter weather, always gave a type of relief to her constantly warm body. Except the mad frenzy down below kinda ruined the moment.

The chewed end of a cig dangling from her thin lips as she stared on from the view as the city slowly devoured itself, piece by piece. Briannah sneered at the situation her _bosses_ failed to inform. Motherfuckers, always keepin' certain things on a need to know basis.

"Take me for a stook, swear to God." Briannah grumbled, stepping off the balcony backpack slung over her shoulder.

She had been given a rather simple task. The briefing on it was short and sweet, but the reward very generous. However this... chaos would make locating her target a tad more complicated than first imagined.

Briannah reached into her coat inside and fished out her headphones. She hated the little buds you stuff in your ear. It made her constantly want to scratch'em. So she went with the over-ear types. The black head piece looked like a dark band in her bright orange hair.

Music filtered into her ear drums from the cell tucked deeply into her jean pocket. She did care much for whatever was going on around her. Bri kept her own business to herself.

Her wedged boots made no sound as her heavy footfalls made contact with the pavement. Where to begin was a varied pathway. She had a list of places her wanted had been seen. The most common was a private company building, **Stoneheart Industries.**

The woman had heard of them before. Its founder, Mr. Palmer, focused his attention in many peculiar sources to free his body of the tormenting sickness. He had almost stumbled upon them once before. Word was, he was dealt a shitty hand and sought out healing. Briannah snorted.

She was young back then but she could see it. Eldritch Palmer craved power and immortality. The sick man would do anything to grasp onto such a prize, to keep a tight and unwavering grip on his life. Mankind was so very sad when one thought about it.

Another trail of sweet smoke trailed behind her. Shouldn't be so negative towards them. After all, Briannah spat the nearly finished cig into a passing bin, she was half of the main population on the earth.

Digging into her other pocket she retrieved the white package of cancer sticks, her guardian called'em. She lit a fresh one, muttering smartly under her breath. "Can't form cancer cells when your lungs just regenerate anyway."

Inhaling quickly then dragging a breath out slowly, Briannah glanced about her surroundings. If Stoneheart was the starting line then where the hell was she? Internet was funky since she landed so _Google Maps_ would prove to be useless.

Crappy internet, people running around like chickens with their heads cut off, and a disgusting smell wafting in the air. Briannah had stepped out of one ring of hell and into a different one. Absolutely brilliant.

A few more blocks she walked, dodging a handful of panicking individuals. Further into the city she ventured. Her purple gaze narrowed. Something was very off in this city, besides the underline reeking.

Over the top of traffic that clogged the roads Briannah caught sight of familiar brown hair, that one braided strand caught in the breeze; a charm glittering faintly in the twilight. She shook off the freezing disbelief of locating him so quickly and bolted. The faster she got a hold of the bastard, the quicker she got out and paid.

Fate must find itself very amusing.

Briannah shadowed him a couple of streets, closing that distance ever so slightly. She had to be careful. His senses outmatched her own, even if only by a little bit. One step out of place, one wrong intake of oxygen, he'd be aware. She couldn't afford to be known so early.

Only a yard separated them now. His pace picked up just ever so discreetly. Shit.

Taking the plunge to fill the gap and pounce, Briannah crossed the back road without looking. The music blaring in her ears didn't help in noticing the oncoming sleek black vehicle nor the blaring horn. Its tires screeched in a sudden halt and centimeters from Briannah's tall legs.

She snapped her head in a blur of rusty red to glare hotly at the car. Briannah growled at the one behind the pitch windows. The driver did nothing but honk again. She startled some at the loud noise. Her eyes switched from car to the empty spot where the man used to occupy.

"Fuckin' really?!" Briannah bared her teeth and slammed her fist down onto the polished hood.

It bent under her strength and made an impressive dent in the surface. She frowned and removed her curled fingers. Her dark eyes looked at license plate. Figures…

Briannah stomped away from the car, not giving a damn about the damage since they distracted her from the pursuit.

"Stupid Italian bitch!" She hollered over her shoulder.

She could've easily paid for the violence inflicted but they need to pay for causing her to lose sight of her target. Both had lost some money today. At least she'd never run into them again, she thought with a cocky grin.


	3. Chapter 3

Briannah relented in the chase as his trail went cold to dead after the near accident. She grumbled under her breath, gaze narrow with annoyance. He'd lead her on a goose chase and here she was, like an over excited pup, lost and without the prize.

'Damn him!' She snarled, recalling how in the past he'd managed these feats.

She had grown up with the target in their youth. Always a step ahead, dangling the fact in  her face. 

Once every five years all the great clans would gather and spend what time their nerves would allow. Every pack in general vicinity? Lord, the troubles and fights that went down! Briannah made herself quite infamous when she had allowed to attend.

Yet, that was in the past and those people no longer existed. Others had passed on, to run in the forests of Cernunnos. A few had gone astray, like her own target, and was kept a close eye upon. He had gone rogue after visiting Germany many, many years ago. Most believed him dead- Briannah struck up another cigarette, yet obviously not.

She had seen that familiar patch of long hair from afar, and the charm that did not belong to him. He'd stolen the token in a childish jest but that youthful bout of teasing had turned bitter and resentful, so he kept it in spite. 

Purple eyes flicked around to the area. It all looked so damn similar, this concrete jungle of iron and stone, that Briannah didn't have a faint clue whether to go forward or backward. She took a quick whiff of the air. Her nose wrinkled.

It was heavily contaminated with the foul stench that smacked her senses earlier. Plus, fear weighed the winds as it brushed past. She furrowed her brow. What exactly was going on?

Well, first thing first was to claim of a spot of her own. Briannah would need a safe place to return to in case this went on longer than she predicted. Right now, with the current feel of this city, it may just stretch out.

Off to where then?

Briannah cocked her head to the left, enhanced hearing deciphering all the sounds in that direction: panicked heart-beats, thrum of car engines, and a strange rattling noise. She frowned at the last. What in God's name was going on??

Definitely not that particular way, she surmised. She'd prefer to stray away from whatever it was festering beneath the stone streets. No matter the issue, it wasn't her own to take on.

Taking one last drag, Briannah tossed the butt into a trash bin and meandered off in the completely opposite direction. Gotta find some of those too, she pinned that bit onto a mental board in the back of her mind. 

She wondered if this state even sold her brand...

* * *

"Go  _ back  _ to Stoneheart? Are you crazy?" Dutch, the blond hacker that followed them from the gas station, frowned at their apparent mad suggestion.

The group didn't say another word. Goodweather shrugged in his leaning stance against the brick wall beneath the Professor's pawn shop. What other choices were there at the moment? From the old man's contacts and Dutch's revelation of taking down the Internet via Palmer's request, the billionaire was the center of this mess.

"We need answers." Nora said, tracing the rim of her long since cold tea. 

" _ We need to get ahead _ ." Setrakian corrected, not glancing up from his dusty tomes. "We already possess the answers. What we do with them is more important."

He had been skimming and flipping several pages since Fet and Dutch returned from their latest scouting. Their information... troubled the retired professor. So far, his current collection told him nothing in regards of the pair's sightings.

Alas his memory was not as sharp as it used to be, but surely they were mistaken. Abraham had trudged down that path before, seeking potential knowledge and perhaps gain allies. However, his desperate search proved to be in vain then cut short by a villain of the his past resurfacing.

To proclaim to see such evidence, self-claimed evidence he reminded himself, was unnerving yet exhilarating. Having a being that was said to oppose the _strigoi_ , their sworn eternal enemy since creation itself on their side would be tipping the odds in humanity's favor. The professor calmed his quickly beating heart.

If they did indeed exist, then maybe all those years he hadn't been imagining the brief look of horror on the Nazi's face when he attempting to crawl from that dark pit in  . Perhaps something had emerged by God's grace to save him and his just cause.

"If we already have all the answers," Ephraim began, ever the skeptic. "Why has your nose been buried in those books since they got back?" A head nod ticked to Fet and Dutch.

All of the group glanced to him now, the same question behind their eyes. Setrakian sighed. 

"I am merely refreshing my mind. Nothing else." His tone brooked no room for further pressing.

He needed his other volumes to span further on this. Should there be any Children of the Moon lurking, he would need to know before they found them. 

"Stoneheart sounds like a solid plan." The Professor concurred, trying to thin the number of bodies in his secret space. He needed time to think, to study.

Velders scrunched her nose. " _ Now _ you're agreeing?"

"Yes, the Hydra has more than one head to cut off." He stated simply.

"He's just an old man with shit tons of money. Why's he so important?" Vasily asked.

Palmer himself was expendable. There other hoarders of money and status the Master could align itself with. Whatever had been promised to the fool would be partial empty. It would deliver a taste of what was to be gained then snatch it away, and watch as Eldritch withered from the betrayal he was too blind to foresee.

"Because Mr. Fet," Abraham shut his book. "Not all monsters are immortal or bare a maw of wicked fang. Some are able to control a form of evil in this world, dressed in sheep's clothing only to devour them when down."

* * *

It was quiet and cold in the grand sphere room of the business giant Eldritch Palmer, save for the constant and maddening noise of his life line. That blasted machine never relented in its unending beeping! How far the giant had fallen that he could no longer muster the strength to rip the strings attached to he and the technology.

**Pitiful.**

Silver eyes watched the shell of a man with a narrow and uncaring gleam. He had been so thankful his kind was mostly safe from such crippling ailments. It was almost disgusting to study from afar. The pasty pale skin that covered the frail bones and dying organs. His labored breaths and sad pleas that were uttered Palmer's medicine induced slumber.

If he ever found himself or another like him in such a horrid state, he would not hesitate to put an end to their misery. Weakness was appalling to his clan and it was always snuffed out. Hence his interest of the mind's pattern of his current employment. 

The Master longed for a world order that would cull the weak and pathetic from this earth and allow the truly strong to inherit what belonged to them in the beginning. All his early life he had been taught that nature would provide. Provide for whom?? So far he had witnessed nothing but unfairness. 

That would change with this plan. This glorious plan that would be everything in perspective and then, all would be truly equal. No more prowling the dark, hiding their true selves.

His keen ears heard the arrival of the elevator. By this time of day, it would his fellow partner to check up on the meat sack. He was correct of course. The gold and black doors slid open to reveal the finely dressed vampire, Thomas Eichhorst.

Eichhorst emerged into the office, undoing the bottom button of his pitch dark coat. The German nodded to him as he neared. "Good evening, Liam."

Liam dipped his head. "Eichhorst,"

"Wie macht unser Geld?" He asked without actual care. Palmer was a means to an end.

"He has remained the same." The man replied in English.

This pleased the German  _ strigoi _ . "Good, then he shall not stray for his chosen path."

Palmer's sickness was easy to play on. It kept the human in his place in order to obtain the elixir to cure his illness. "Yes, everything is going smoothly."

"Indeed," Thomas purred, circling the sleeping and unsuspecting mortal. "I feel the great surge of my new brothers and sisters. My Master is very pleased."

Liam had scented the growing numbers in the undead. The infection had spread quickly, like wild fire on a dry summer wind. But there was a curious scent mixed into it all.

As if reading his mind, Eichhorst spoke, "Interesting you agree as I have detected a rather odd stench in the air of recently. It is unique but not unlike your own.

He too had picked it up earlier in the day. Liam wasn't surprised. 

"It is like the damp earth and fresh pine with a touch of  _ dog _ ." He knew it was another of his kind. 

"There is no need for concern. It is only a half-breed, a hunter of rogues and contracts." Liam knew them personally but would not voice it unless they became a problem.

"There is the concern." The German rounded on the Romanian, eyes hard. "Even  _ bastards  _ can overthrow a reign!"

Both stilled as the camouflaged door opened and Fitzwilliam stepped out. The dark skinned man eyed the two wearily. "Gentlemen." Liam and Thomas nodded but said nothing.

He was loyal to the husk of a human on the bed. For now. A watchful eye would be put on him.

"It is rather late and I would ask that you take leave so I may administer Mr. Palmer his treatment." 

The bodyguard said, his stature braced for any conflict.

Eichhorst smiled at the man. "Of course! We shall return tomorrow."

Fitzwilliam watched them until the elevator doors clicked shut. Liam rolled his eyes. Military or not, he would not win pitted against him. Why did humans hold a confident air about them regarding these things?

"This hunter you speak of," Thomas said, "You  _ will  _ take care of it."

If Liam was correct on whom he had smelled then this would be not so simple but the Nazi need not know that. He traced the moon shaped charm woven into his woven hair. He'd handle this one way or another.

"You can count on that."


	4. Chapter 4

_Days later…_

Briannah sat on the single sized mattress she had shoved into the corner after heavily locking the door. Her spotted visage one of agitation and concern. The night had held many surprises for the woman.

People being snatched off the streets into alcoves of darkness. Cries echoing over the city. And the strangest she had seen was the figure so pale, Briannah mistook it for a damned ghost.

She lit up her final cigarette, (mental note: save those) recalling the freaky thing. It was horridly thin, clothes reduced to tatters, fast yet clumsy. Briannah had caught a glimpse of bright red eyes before they disappeared.

Her clan had stories about such creatures. Those in-between, walking this earth yet not living. Cursed to drink the wine of the damned. **Deamhan fola** \- the vampire.

A sad tale was passed down by her folk. The legend of woman who possessed great beauty, hair like the rays of sunlight and lips like rubies. Her name buried by the hell sent she became.

It says that she fell in love with a mere peasant boy, one who returned her feelings with force that matched only her own. Yet, the father would not abide this. He sold his daughter's hand to a terribly cruel and vile man of great wealth and stature. With his greed satisfied, she was sent away to suffer under the tortures of her 'husband'.

The man was disturbed. He found pleasure in drawing streams of scarlet from her body, painting horrible images with her blood. The girl was locked away in a tower to be the center of his hellish abuse.

Hope gave her life instead of air and blood. Hope that her love who rescue her from this pit of despair and agony. Instead, months passed and she wasted away to a wilted flower. On her final day of earthly damnation, the once pure and fair maiden decided to take fate into her own battered hands.

She renounced God and vowed revenge on those who wronged her. The girl took her life by throwing her fading body into the pigs paddock, dying slowly as mud filled her lungs and the livestock nibbled and tore at her flesh until the servants discovered the horror too late.

Two nights after her burial, the tainted maiden rose from her grave. A wicked thirst drove her undead state. She hungered for blood and vengeance. And so rose beneath that crescent moon, a **Dearg-due** \- red blood sucker.

Hollywood enjoying dressing them up as flawless beings that hide within the levels of high society, basking in their immortality. But how wrong they were. The young girl did not return restored to her former glory. No, she was gaunt and terrifying. Eyes burning with the wrathful flames of hell. What remained of her beauty was left in her voice, that alone tempted those to come to her deadly clutches.

Briannah sighed, rubbing the used up fag in the tray. Those were only stories. Her clan leader hadn't seen any such creature for centuries and assured those who fretted that they no longer existed.

She cracked her wrist. The pain wasn't so bad today. Tolerable but that didn't mean much. Her stomach rumbled next. Food could fix that. Briannah frowned when she remembered last time she ate. 'That would explain the mood...'

Launching herself off the mattress, Briannah meandered over the carpeted floor and grabbed her coat. The orange envelope lay beneath it.

Liam's smug profile clipped to the cover.

After scrounging up something to eat, she'd pick up his trail again. The insufferable bastard... Her stomach growled once more, an instant reminder.

If she didn't consume actual edibles soon, it'd be hella worse for any that got in her way.

* * *

"We need the Lumen, Mr. Fet." The professor was entirely adamant about retrieving the book he had been going on and on about the past few days. "Or all of this will be pointless if the Master gets his damned hands on it!"

 Vasily frowned. It was a bit unnerving that a single book could undone all the progress they'd done the past few weeks. "Must be a pretty important book, eh?"

 "Scale-tipping, Mr. Fet." Abraham said, nerves atwitter with eagerness to locate it before Palmer had the chance. "If we fail, the Master inherits the earth."

 "Not too much pressure or anything..." Fet grumbled.

* * *

Briannah tracked the scent heading west from Roosevelt Island. It had faded some since Liam crossed the water from his direction with his heavily clothed companion. If any of the bread crumbs she managed to pick up from all the shadowing and near chances, his partner was a former Nazi Thomas Eichhorst.

He was this... _strigoi_ creature, yet unlike the crazed ones running beneath the city. Thomas seemed to be important. It spoke to Palmer in someone else's place. Liam was a bodyguard of some sort, but it felt bigger than that. They were dangling a cure before the old man's face, slowly draining him of funds and resources.

A cure to what exactly was still unknown to her. Briannah had flipped through every piece of information she could dig up on this Eldritch Palmer as the Internet was slower than molasses. Newspaper articles and a few records she could pull all described the billionaire to have a disease that confounded doctors in most countries. Her own personal info was little to none.

She remembered a younger Palmer discovering them. He came as a humbled figure at first, trying to tug on their heartstrings for mercy and aide. They refused. Again he tried, offering whatever price they desired. Briannah recalled her guardian bellowing for the human to leave and never return, that he had been cursed for reasoning beyond mortal understanding.

Palmer's true nature surfaced then, a spoiled yet rebuked child but also a frightened and exhausted man. He shouted that their blood could release him of this bodily torment, free him of the physical shackles that kept him for being the true man he was meant to be. Briannah's guardian spoke to him once more and only once, if Eldritch had been denied grace by his God then his chances may favor with others.

Briannah didn't grasp what he had meant that night but it sent Palmer off in a scoff and threats, but now she understood. Seek out the other creations of night, seeds of Fallen, and maybe one of them shall help. The sick bastard found'em all right and handed New York (maybe the whole damn planet) on a platter in exchange for health.

A fragile and easily destroyed thing health was. Its end coming in many various ways. However, Palmer and his legion of vampires weren't on top of Briannah's list. Liam and his traitorous ass was.

A damaged white van rolled from the warehouse off the Island. Inside were the people who beat Liam and Eichhorst in a bid. She couldn't see their faces well as they raced out of there like the devil himself was chasing them. In this case, Briannah wouldn't be surprised if a half goat man dashed after, waving a pitchfork and screaming at them.

Jokes aside, Briannah stifled her self amusement, speak of the devil and he shall appear.

She felt it in the ghost of a breeze. The energy in the area shifted ever so slightly, a buzz with magic and blood; the strong urge to let go and run blazed. Briannah dug in her nails into the stone railing as she watched that large and familiar form bound after the delivery truck.

**"Shit."**

* * *

"We did it!" Fet hollered, jabbing a victorious fist in the air.

The Professor sat with the Lumen in his lap, a rather cheeky grin hidden beneath his scruff.

"Indeed, Mr. Fet, but the battle is not yet won. I feel we haven't made it out of the woods yet."

Vasiliy pouted, as usual the mood was soured by some foreshadowing. But he couldn't really disagree either. He doubted the Nazi would let the book slip so easily through his fingers. If the look on his face when Palmer denied him access to his accounts meant anything, it just promised vengeance.

Fet shivered at the tall guy standing next to the freak. His eyes were the most attention grabbing. It was like molten gold, light and burning. The dude was all around just creepy! Starin' at him like he was ham steak!

"Mr. Fet," Abraham said, looking in the mirror. "We have company."

Muncher decided to follow'em, yeah? Well, he had all the bells and whistles put in this baby. They could hold off a _strigoi_ with a grudge... "HOLY SHIT, IS THAT A DOG!?"

A hulking dark brown canine form dashed behind them, gaining distance like crazy! Silver orbs glared in the mass of fur, taunting Fet to try and get away. Fear iced his spine but Fet was determined to keep that book from them.

"Hold on!" He shouted, pushing the pedal to the medal.

The old van roared as its speed soared. A howl echoed in accepting the challenge. Fet wasn't sure where the thundering sensation was coming from, his heart or the giant thing behind them.

They reached the underpass of the bridge when a truck with blaring lights smacked right into their side. The van groaned and heaved to the side heavily from the force of the hit. Fet gnashed his teeth together, one eye open and trained on the smug face of that bastard Eichhorst.

The vehicle landed back on all four tires but remained locked in place by the semi. No matter how Vasiliy cursed and pleaded with the van to go in either direction, it was futile. Abraham scowled at the beaming and self assuming victor, villain of his younger years.

 _Strigoi_ erupted from the trailer connected by the truck and swarmed them. Hundreds of palms and feet slapping against the metal exterior, eager to tear inside and devour their blood. Fet let out a holler of outrage, reaching for the contraption he had created days earlier.

"It is over, A230385."

The Professor kept his arms locked around the sacred text of the undead. He inwardly vowed they would have to rip the Lumen from his cold dead hands. Of course Abraham knew that'd be not a problem for the Nazi and crazed minions.

A rumbling snarl and the back door was ripped entirely off it's hinges. Vasiliy twisted in his seat, mentally prepared for a hulking dog except that was replaced by confusion. It was that weirdo from the auction!

His silver eyes were narrow and gleaming with nothing but amusement. "I haven't chased after a car in long time." His chuckle with filled with mirth. "It was fun while it lasted, rat-man."

The van dipped as he stepped inside the belly of it. Fet grew more and more confounded by the second. The guy looked macho as hell! The suspension acted as if four hundred pounds got piled on!

"Now," The freak's voice purred. "You will relinquish that book."

Vasiliy gripped the rebar that had saved his ass too many times to count in this crazy apocalypse with every ounce of his life. If he had to go out, it'd be fighting and he'd hopefully take this prick with him!

The smug bastard strode up with a glimmering grin that resembled a more than delighted wolf with its cornered dinner. Inch by inch he got closer, drawing near with the promise of a fight if not their death. Fet remained still, despite his pounding heart.

He'd wait for the moment to strike the guy, whack his skull and hightail it with the Professor and damn book. Fet was more than prepared for the muncher but this dude- dog threw a wrench in is plans.

He approached with a glimmering grin that resembled a hungry wolf. Inch by inch he got closer, drawing near with the promise of death. Fet remained still, waiting for a moment to strike; to anything that would mean a chance for survival.

Suddenly the guy stopped. His large frame set on a pause as, head tilt to the side. Fet noticed the truck dipped more? Vasiliy moved slightly to see what made the lumbering giant freeze. His eyes widened.

"There you are, finally." He breathed, arms sliding down from gripping the iron to his sides.

A short and bright orange haired chick stood behind the man, a pistol tight in her grip and aimed directly at his head. She scoffed, "Been here, just figured it was my time to move."

The gears in the weapon shifted as the safety was released. "You've caused me a lot trouble, fuckin' around with Nazis... _vampires_?" She sneered the word with disbelief. "What kinda shit have ya gotten yourself in now, Liam?"

"Nothing that a petty half-breed needs to know." The guy Liam, bit back. "Still following orders from a clan that sees you as a mere loose end?"

That caused fury to ignite over her speckled face. She pushed the barrel into the base of his skull. "Keep spoutin' shit, I don't care. When I get your pathetic ass back, my deal is complete and paid in full."

Liam chuckled darkly. Fet glanced over to the professor, trying to see what he made of this.

The old man just glared at the pair, still clutching the silver book to his chest. Fet looked outside. Eichhorst was gone and more munchers piled themselves on the van, shaking it back and forth with their hefty weight.

"Still so naive, Bri Bri." He growled, fingers tensing.

"Oh, fuck off with that nickna-" The sound of tires screeching against the damp pavement switched everyone's attention to the outside.

Five large and black vehicles lined up on the opposite side under the bridge, men of various colour piling out of them; each impressively armed. Fet whistled in envy at the power they were totting. "Damn!"

Rapid gun fire poured onto the van, striking the _strigoi_ above and around. Fet hollered as a few broke through the glass, trimming his whiskers a bit, and hauled the Professor down to the floor with him. He glanced up with one eye, scowling. There were people in here for God's sake!

The two strangers fell back, avoiding any stray bullets that may fly their way. The girl however, did not falter in her directive. Taking advantage of his slackened guard, she smacked him with the heel of her palm, hard. The hit made a sick and wet crack as it connected. He howled at the pain, clutching the bleeding nostrils with one hand.

She smirked at the droplets leaking through his fingers, dripping onto the ground. Then, like a bolt of lighting, she whipped her arms out and clapped his ears. Liam snarled and tumbled backwards, hitting the junk Fet had complied.

Vasiliy took advantage of their personal brawl as a chance to get the Prof and that damn book outta here.

"Come on! I got a plan B!" Fet helped the professor up and maneuvered around the pair.

The big guy shook the spinning from his head soon enough to see the woman attack him again. This time she launched with her leg, her boot hitting square in his stomach. Liam stuttered in his footfalls allowing him to be knocked into the wall again.

The escape hatch Fet had constructed into the base came in handy after all. Liam regained his stance and wind then managed to get a caging hold on the woman's throat much to her shock, throwing them across the small space, barely making it over Fet and the old man. He braced her small form against the wall, increasing his pressure.

He heard her gun hit the steel flooring sometime in the middle of that hurl.

Vasiliy wanted to help her, he really did, but the Professor came first. He had to make sure Abe hit bottom without any strife then maybe give some aide to the struggle goin' on his van. Yet to his surprise and joy, Fet turned in time to witness the short lady gain the upper hand.

She dug her heel into his abdomen and shoved him off, launching Liam into the middle of the driver pit. The woman darted after him, like a wolf on a bleeding sheep. Her fingers entwined around his throat this time, bending him on the console.

"You stupid arse! Give up!" She screamed, releasing one hand to punch him in the right eye socket.

He growled as her strike landed.

"Go to hell, Collins!" He bellowed and unwound her fingers, shoving her off.

Her body was sent sailing into the passenger door, crumbling the metal with the blunt strength. She groaned, or the door did and it broke off the hinges with a screech onto the sidewalk near a pair of rather nicely kept shoes. A tutting noise made Collins glance up at the owner.

"Have ourselves a nasty fall, pet?" Eichhorst cooed with fake concern.

"Not as bad as you're about to have." She promised with venom lacing her tone through the winces.

But Thomas paid her threat little heed and brought his foot down on her hand that lay closest to him. She growled under her breath as the pain sent static up her arm.

"Now pets don't behave in such ways, dear." He said in a sing song voice. "Especially half-breeds."

That sensitive chord was struck and Collins snatched her pinned limb back with a ragged huff. Half-breed this, half-breed that, it never stopped. No one saw past the soiled blood that ran through her veins. That damn category would follow her even in death.

"Better than an ass-kissing Nazi like you!" She barked, getting to her feet.

Eichhorst frowned, his face scrunched in a furrow of disappointment. "You really must learn your place,  _Fräulein_ ."

Liam hopped out of the van, shoving her harshly in the process. Collins teetered forward but remained standing. Screeches of falling _strigoi_ and gunfire echoed behind them, but none paid it any mind. Instead, Eichhorst grinned.

"Well, my dear, you've found yourself a tad outnumbered." He seemed proud of himself. "The wise thing to do would be surrender, yes?"

Liam snorted. "That'd be a sight."

Collins bared her lesser than white teeth at them. Give up with what awaited her at home? Spitting on that promise would be like hashing a deal with Satan and double playing him. She wasn't that dim witted. There had to be a way to get out this odd little jam…

A sharp whistle made it over the noise. They glanced at the man Collins saw retreat with the old man under the van. His smile gleamed under the goatee he was sporting. In his hand was the reason of his beaming grin.

"Is that...?" Liam cocked his head to the right, already rewinding a few paces.

By the looks of Eichhorst he was not pleased to see that. He sneered, cowering as well.

Collins stared at him, eyes wide. "You're fuckin' mad!"

"Nah," He just shrugged. "I just like having insurance."

The man held a grenade in his gloved palm. She felt all the colour drain from her face when he popped the pin. Eichhorst hissed like a demonic snake, dashing far from there. Collins snarled when Liam quickly joined him. Her knees bent to go after them when a hand gripped her elbow.

"Let's get outta here!" He chuckled, tugging her back into the van.

"Wha-? No! You gotta a death wish or what!?" She shrieked, sluggishly trying to remove her appendage from his grip. Her head still pulsed from the hitting the door so hard.

Once they were on the threshold of the van, the man stopped and nodded his head downward where the grenade lay. Collins slowly glanced at it, as if her gaze alone would set it off.

"It's a dud." He informed her with a cheeky wink.

All the colour that had been erased in the wake of that damn dropping returned ten fold in an angry shade of red. Relief was squashed by the humiliation of being fooled. Collins was not one to be toyed with.

She snatched her limb back with ease, startling the big man. He looked her up and down in amazement. "You're a tough cookie, aren't ya?"

The threat that built up on the tip of her tongue was halted by the thud of another item. She looked to the space between them and froze. He was certainly full of surprises.

"That one _is live_ , let's get!" He chuckled, jumping down through the manhole.

Collins scowled. The situation did not turn out as planned, not at all!

* * *

Abraham waited with thinning patience for Mr. Fet's return. He had insisted upon going back and try to help the orange woman that had scrambling against Eichhorst henchman. The Nazi had discovered a most troublesome ally, even with the Born out there, humanity was at odds yet again.

The thick steel lid scraped against the pavement, signaling that Mr. Fet had arrived. He lumbered his large frame out of the sewers with a large smile directed at him, giving a small wave then turning about to lend a hand to the follower. Setrakian frowned, tucking the Lumen tighter in his arms. A head of full orange hair popped out of the ground.

He did not trust this girl.

"'Ey! Professor, I made it!" Fet hollered across the way with her in tow.

There was no doubt Vasiliy would come back, Abraham mused that he had been born beneath a lucky star with this man's streak. Yet his company left much to be seen. He stood, keeping the Lumen secure in his right arm.

"With another in hand, I see. Who is she?" He grumbled.

Time was precious but he would not go further without knowing at least some information about the girl with lavender eyes. Those orbs narrowed when he voiced this curiosity.

" _Smith._ " She offered, arms crossed her chest.

A lie, of course. She was not simple minded nor one to underestimate if her display of capabilities was to be taken in consideration. Her strength looked to match Vasiliy's if not surpass it. What else was this woman hiding along side her name?

He studied her guarded posture. She was short but stout, wide shouldered yet retaining an appearance of femininity. If her profile hinted at anything it was she was from Europe, probably the Highlands; freckles dusted across her visage framed by fiery curled locks. Also, her knuckles caught his scrutiny. Her hands were tapped up the bone.

Definitely worked with her hands. In this field of skill she was seemingly trained in, a fighter most likely. But that was not truly the important factor. The question burned in his mind as to why she was here, who sent her.

Fet shrugged at her given response. "Got a first name, _Smith_?"

Judging by his tone, Fet didn't fully believe her either. However, being the kind soul he was, Fet wouldn't press her too much about it. Smith rose a brow.

"I keep hearin' my name but not your own." She retorted, still defensive in how she held herself.

The exterminator shrugged again, not sensing any real harm in it. "Fet, Vasiliy Fet."

She glanced at him next, expression uncaring whether or not she received his name until those odd eyes saw the text they risked their lives for. Abe clutched it even tighter, so much he felt the silver bindings dig into his chest. Did she know what it is?

Her gaze lowered when Setrekian did not repeat Fet's open gesture. At first the professor thought he had offended the woman perhaps but he saw the slightest crane in her neck, her ear tilted to behind.

"Mr. Fet," He called, walking away and towards the docks. His gut warned him of incoming problems.

"Eh? Vhat about da girl, professor?" Fet asked as his legs jogged to catch up.

His instincts told him not to turn around to address the question, to keep his pace and eyes forward, but it did not work out that way. Those honed feelings were becoming rusty and rattled with impatience. Abe glanced over his shoulder to see desperation flare in the woman's eyes.

 In a slowed motion the woman managed to catch up to Fet. He was startled by her sudden appearance but it was not enough to prepare her attack. She elbowed him in the ribs, throwing a bit of her weight into it thus knocking him off his feet. Then, those once desperation eyes were now filled with determination focused on him- on the Occido Lumen.

"If Liam wanted that book so badly, I want it even more then." She said, dashing over to him at a speed faster than a normal human possessed. "Hand it over." The last word vibrated with a low growl, her own patience on a thin string it seemed.

 "You'll have it to pry it from my cold, dead fingers, Smith." Setrakian vowed, drawing the silver bane hidden in his cane.

 She bristled at the blade's reveal. Was she not fond of swords or was it something else- maybe the silver bothering her? Interesting…

 Her bared teeth told Abe she did not care. Swiftly, yet carefully, the sword was smacked from his hand. It clanged on the cement, too far from him to retrieve while holding onto the Lumen. He was at a disadvantage.

 "I won't hurt ya, just fork it over!" The woman urged, inches from him.

The professor refused. She shook her head and reached to snatch it from his grasp. The moment her partial bare skin touched the silver cover, the flesh singed. A yelp echoed in the night air.

She hissed through her teeth, glaring down at her mildly burnt fingertips.

Just what was this young woman?

That mystery would remain unsolved for now as Fet regained his bearings and came up behind her without much noise. The butt end of his gun struck the base of her skull, rendering her unconscious. Wide eyes slid slowly to a close as her body dropped. Fet broke her fall, cupping under her arms.

Fet looked to him, aghast. "You okay? What the hell is she?"

Her head lulled to the side, facing their next dilemma. The professor sighed, his old bones tired for this evening of running and carrying.

The dhampir and his young warrior arrived to ensure the bargain would be kept either way.

 


	5. Chapter 5

Everything felt so off balance, as if she were floating in a cradle of pitch black. She could feel her body sway back and forth, left to right, like adrift at sea. Briannah felt her lips twitch. She liked the ocean, the salty air and soothing waves.

Indiscriminate voices echoed in the darkness were her state of mind existed. None were familiar at first then, as her body roused, they became more clear. It was the old man and the one with an explosives issue.

_"I wouldn't have brought her if I'd known she was after da book."_

_"I don't believe she is, at least not entirely."_

Book? A faint burn itched as the flesh on her palms stitched back together. Oh yeah, that book of fuck all with an intolerance to silver. She'd toss it if she ever got the chance again.

_"Ya neva answered me, professor."_

_"Hmm?"_

_"What is she? Da Lumen_ burned _her hands."_

That'd be an interesting conversation. One she had no plans on sticking around for. Her muscles flexed as the awareness in her body returned. Her wrists were cold. Did they really cuff her?!

_"I have my suspicions, Mr. Fet."_

Through these snippets of talk Briannah heard an odd noise over those two, in the middle of the grinding gears of the engine, above the breathing of others standing further away. It was a grumble? It was a weird mix of growling and purring.

 _"Mr. Quinlan,"_ The sound stopped. _"may have the same theories."_

It was silent for awhile until a deep voice replied. " _I did not believe they existed."_

_"Dat what existed?"_

_"Strigoi roam the underbelly of the world and you did not think other types of supernatural creatures lived?"_

Eh, that didn't mean a whole lot. Briannah didn't believe in _strigoi_ until a few days ago. It can't be that surprising.

_"I have lived for a very long time, professor. I rebuke the idea of even gods and yet this baffles you?"_

Hmm, his voice was definitely bizarre. It had dual tones overlapping each other, one deeper and more primal than the other. It kind of reminded her of thunder. A soft yet rumbling noise but underlined with power.

 _"I have seen much."_ He continued. She could feel the guy's gaze on her, intense and slightly curious. _"But I have never encountered what you believe her to be."_

Well, same goes for you too buddy. Briannah never met someone who had double harmonics in their voice. Little by little her form grew more and more awake. Her brow knitted. They were on a boat? That explained that rocking motion from before.

_"That does not mean that are none like her, more creatures sulking in the night."_

_"So what? She's like a were-"_

Briannah groaned at the pressure in pulsing in her skull as she rose from the bent position her neck had drooped to. Her eyes fluttered open, meeting a damp wood ceiling and cream coloured steel. She sighed as her arms were indeed shoved around a pipe and linked by cuffs.

"Okay," She gently rolled her head side to side, trying to relieve the dizziness. "I'm into some kinky stuff but handcuffs are a turn off."

An amused chuckle floated on the crisp breeze into the cabin from the the youngest of the group. He was smacked lightly on the shoulder by his elder companion. None inside shared the same reaction.

An untrusting expression soured the big man's scruffy face. The old man kept his face in the same setting she had first seen, the look mirroring her grumpy uncle gave her. What caught her adjusting sight was a pair of icy eyes peering at her from beneath a black hood. The material and shadow being cast from it obscured most of his profile but she could see the pasty skin from here.

"So, who's gonna unlock these?" She clanged the cuffs against the pipe with a grin beaming with false serenity.

It wasn't shocking none of them moved an inch. She wouldn't let her loose either. Shrugging, Briannah leaned back against the post. She tried.

"You're nuts if ya think we're gonna let ya walk around." Fet said. She remembered now.

"Callin' the kettle black yeah?" She nudged her flaming locks towards the hooded man. "He's one of'em."

Fet pursed his lips, mildly glaring at the professor but didn't reply to that jab. Blue eyes remained devoid of emotion, simply staring. Did he ever blink?

"First time I've ever heard'em talk though." Briannah added, shifting to be more upright.

That seemed to press a button. His gaze narrowed the slightest.

"I am _not_ like _them_." He stated, growling a bit on the last word.

A low blow for her, categorizing another like she had been over her life. Pretty shitty thing of her do then again, Briannah didn't know these people. Why'd it matter? Once they found out, if they did, it'd be the same song and dance.

_'Rabid, just like them!'_

_'Unnatural bastard! Should've died right along with your sire!'_

_'Pitiful excuse for a daughter. A shame upon your mother clan.'_

Her mood turned sullen. Her shoulders dipping. She never did fit in anywhere. These lot wouldn't be any different.

"Sorry," Briannah muttered under her breath.

He looked genuinely surprised for a moment but that was broken when the professor spoke up.

"You've see these creatures before?" He inquired, squinting at her as the truth was written on her face somewhere.

"Nah. I was told about'em when I was a youngin'. First time I've meet one was when I arrived here." She explained. "They don't speak, only hiss and screech. Well, the unlucky who ran into me did. Idiotic things. Ya figure after you bash the first one's head in, the others would learn. Obviously not." Briannah bit out the 'T', pronouncing it heavily.

"Who are you?" He pressed.

Hadn't she informed him already? However, the elderly didn't allow the wool to be pulled over his eyes so easily. It wasn't a firm lie either. Smith? Yeah, okay, she didn't even believe people who actually had the last name as 'Smith' to be it.

 _"Who are you_?" Briannah repeated the question. She wasn't going to reveal her name unless someone around here did so first.

"Like you're in a position to ask." Fet frowned.

Briannah rose a brow. "And who put me here in the first place?"

Both Fet and the old man replied. "You."

She pouted in defeat. "True enough..."

The younger man walked in, his pace full of gangster swagger. He looked at her then at Fet. "She's gotta have ID, right?"

Fet nodded, keeping his hands on the control. "Yeah, yeah. Search her, Gus." He grinned, not self volunteering at all.

She shot him a glare, daring the boy to attempt touching her. His nose wrinkled. "Why the hell won't you?"

He grimaced, slightly touching his ribs. "She hits. _Hard_."

"'Cause that makes me wanna all the more." Gus grumbled. "If she can take down you, then why you gotta make the little man do it?"

"You can move quicker out of da way. I was thinkin' about your safety man." Fet said, placing a palm over his heart.

Gus snorted and was quick to give the big man a smart ass quip. The pair bantered over this personal search, leaving both the grey haired men looking in disappointment. Briannah rolled her eyes. Men were roughly the same no matter which country they hailed from.

She did not notice the man in the black hood move discreetly from his standing in the corner. Briannah outwardly jumped when she felt a rise in heat form next to her. Her lavender eyes flicked up to see his pale blue gaze, seemingly glowing from the rim of darkness that clouded most of his face.

From this close she could make out some details of this mystery. His skin matched the ones scurrying around in the city, except for the marking that ran down from the top of his head and over the sides of his face. A few lines that were bright than the rest of the tone looked to be scars. Overall he looked... unique.

"I will only ask you once." He stated. "What is your name?"

She sneered at him. "Would you offer it so freely? You seem like the type who doesn't like sharing."

He merely stared at her for ticks of seconds. "I will release you if you do so."

Her eyes widened a fraction. "I don't think your buddies would appreciate that."

None of them had interrupted their so far private conversation. Fet and Gus was yet arguing. The old ones may have noticed but said nothing.

"They are a means to an end. I care little for their opinions." He said without skipping a beat.

Talk about harsh... Made sense though. She did it often. Often it was done unto her. Circle of life and all that nonsense. But…

She leaned up, reaching her limit of wiggle room, and flashed her teeth. "And I care little for your curiosity."

* * *

Such a stubborn woman, he thought relenting to pry any further information. On a small level he understood why she was so defiant on keeping her identity to herself but right now, it was rather tiresome; much like Elizalde and Vasiliy going at it like children. Quinlan had happened upon them after the woman assaulted the larger man and attempted to steal the Lumen.

At first, he was vexed by yet another he'd have to get rid of to obtain that accursed text then her peculiar scent came upwind. It was beguiling, if he had been blind, Quinlan would have presumed she was an animal of sorts. Yet there was a young woman being hit unconscious by the exterminator.

The professor was firm in taking her with them after turning the odds in his favor, or so he thought. He had been around long enough to master the art of manipulation and found it easier when it was played against those he cared not for. Quinlan would play along until his father's head was at his feet where it belonged.

He considered to be more forceful with the odd woman but decided to leave for it now.

"Have it your way." Quinlan turned from her view. "They will not cease until you tell them."

He had not made it five paces before her voice reached his ears. "What does it matter?"

Not looking back, he asked. "Why should it not?"

She was confounding this... whatever she truly was. One moment her tone would be loud and unyielding however this round, it was soft and unsure. Hot then cold, switching to and fro. Quinlan had noticed something in her spotted visage when she had apologized for her earlier assumption.

A sigh then a reluctant confession. "Collins. That's all I'm gonna say."

"Fair enough." Discussion ended. He had no need to converse anymore.

Although, that did mean he would stop in thinking. Quinlan returned to his shadowy corner and watched them all. Gus had finally given up with the giant and left the woman be with a dismissing wave from the professor. Neither of the elder mortals had missed their brief talk.

Fet continued to steer the boat across the bay without any more prodding. It was silent save for the waves lapping at the steel sides of the ship, rumbling guts of the machine and their heartbeats. Distantly Quinlan could hear much and sometimes caught the noises of _strigoi_ beneath it all. If no more progress was made soon, there would be no city left to defend.

Currently, he stashed those predictions away and restarted his surveying. Quinlan did not know a lot about these people, only their motives were not far from his own. Everyone aboard, except the orange haired woman, shared a common ground of revenge. A fire he knew intimately how to stoke and burn to his advantage.

Back again to the strange woman who had grown quite still and devoid of emotion since departing that tiny piece of herself. She looked like any regular female he had seen despite the lack of modern beauty, which he was thankful for as it was misleading and the chemicals hurt his sense of smell. Her clothes were simple and body a bit more to his standard of healthy.

But that was not what kept tugging on his attention.

There was something about her, more than the surface offered. Exactly what he did not yet know. A touch of what did lurk beneath filtered across her oddly coloured eyes for a second. A chip in her armor perhaps. A weakness to exploit.

Whatever she hid so desperately would be found out, the easy way or the hard way. He kept his secrets but did not like being barred from them himself. Any source would be needed to make sure she stayed in line, if she could be trusted even.

Quinlan also disliked unpredictability. He had to always remain a step ahead, in case the end result came out unfavorably. Then again, there could be some time spared to ask questions. The professor had not given him a definite time window in deciphering the Occido Lumen.

His eyes narrowed. She had been after the Lumen as well, had she not? Collins failed in snatching it from Setrakian. Why would she desire the book?

Ahh, more unresolved inquires. It was beginning to give him a faint headache paired with being on this damn water vessel. Crossing live bodies of water never hesitated in tossing a bout of nausea at him, instantly souring his mood. He pinched the bridge of his nos 

Damn it.

"Doin' ok over there, half-muncher?" Fet asked of course sarcastically.

Quinlan tucked his arms over his chest and squeezed his fingers painfully into his biceps. "I am perfectly well, Mr. Fet."

Fet snickered, the bastard and focused on driving. Collins though, blinked and tilted her head at him. He refused to look at her once more, his irritation already climbing. He did not need any scrutinizing stares.

The faster they got off this horrid thing the better.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be the last slow paced chapter for a long while. I'm trying to ease into this as my Quinlan fics never really seem to take off...

"What'd we do with her?" Fet jabbed a finger at her person.

They had docked on the opposite side of the canal, far from the last sighting of Liam and hordes of rattling vampires. Mr. Quinlan had swiftly removed himself from the boat entirely and patiently awaited them on the stone. Fet and the professor were last aboard.

Briannah offered. "Let me go?"

Fet's shoulders hunched, looking at the professor with sad eyes. "Do we?"

The old man was flabbergasted it seemed and replied with a firm. " _No_."

Briannah scoffed. "What do ya really want with me? I can't see the point to keeping me on a leash." She jiggled the metals clasps about her wrists. "I _ain't_ a pet."

Abraham rose stiffly, Lumen tucked under his weary arm. "No, you are not, however I believe it wise to keep an eye on you."

She shook her head in disbelief. "I haven't needed a _feighlí leanaí_ before and sure as hell don't need one now."

"Then let's purpose a deal, shall we?" He offered, standing near the ramp.

"Usually one ends up losing more than they bargained for." Briannah said, watching them wearily.

Fet made a face of understanding but otherwise kept silent. Setrakian continued. "True, but I have faith that everyone shall get their just rewards in the end. Maybe not how they originally intended, but results nonetheless. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, Miss Collins."

So he was listening in, sly old coot. Briannah mulled it over in a hurry. These people did seem to act on this was not the first time they'd run into Eichhorst and his legion of drooling goons. And they had the book the Nazi was hell bent on obtaining. A lovely piece of bait that lured Eichhorst that in turn lured Liam.

For now, Briannah would comply.

"Fine. One condition," She glared. " _This_ ," The handcuffs rattled loudly against the pipes. "Does not happen again. Ever."

"Agreeable." He huffed, motioning for Fet to unlock her. The giant man knelt beside her, eyes flickering to her face then back to the handcuffs. A click and her reddened wrists were finally free.

Briannah sighed, twisting her bones in a circle to rid the soreness. "I ain't gonna bite if that was your problem." She said to Fet's wide back as he plodded down the steel ramp. He glanced over his broad shoulder.

"I gotta watch out for that, don't I?" His words were completely serious knocking Briannah for a mental whirl for a second. Was that a snip of racism there? She snickered. Oh, this was going to be one hell of an entertaining ride. Slapping her palms on the top of her thighs, Briannah hauled up and ambled to shore.

Gus was the first to mention her freedom. "We gonna just let her walk around with us?" His dark eyes looked to Quinlan and the professor. "I mean, we don't know the girl! What if she tries to rob us again?"

Briannah crossed her arms. "Well I don't know you either. Plus, I'm just a lone girl in the midst of strange men. Who knows what could happen to lil ol' me." She snarked.

"I ain't gonna do anythin' to ya!" Both Fet and Gus exclaimed.

"Profiling sucks, don't it?" Briannah sneered, walking past Gus and the grey haired man to stand alone but near. She swore a very faint spark of amusement went across Quinlan's eyes but it was gone as quickly as it came. Briannah just rubbed it off as mistaken.

The men looked rightfully ashamed and didn't say anymore.

"Where do we go from here?" The younger of the old men asked, his voice thick was his native accent.

"Good question," Fet took in their surroundings. "We could hole up around, fortify an area."

Briannah rolled her eyes.

"Yo, I know a place!" Gus' sharp features lit up with the idea. "There's real fancy club downtown! Mr. Q cleared it out himself."

"Where we meet you earlier?" The professor questioned Quinlan.

He nodded, face as solemn as it seemed to constantly stay. "It is safe and holds much you would find useful."

"Back to the Olympian?" Fet sneered.

Gus didn't have knowledge it seemed they had been there before. He shrugged as the obvious dislike Fet had for it. "Better than hanging our asses out here for grabs."

"Especially tottin' that about." Briannah chimed in, pointing a sharp nail at the silver bound book tucked under the professor's arm. "If it's as valuable to these blood suckers as you say, the longer we fiddle, the more we put our asses in jeopardy."

All of them came to agree on that.

"I'm not too keen on dying for a book." She finished.

"Legions have gone to war and died over lesser volumes of text." Setrakian grumbled, walking forward in direction unknown. Quinlan followed suit, neither looking at her as they went by.

"Not too fond of religion either." Briannah grumbled at them, mirroring their steps.

The three men left behind relented for now and jogged to close the small gap of distance. None of them seemed to eager of this plan judging by their expressions. Briannah kept her mouth shut on the topic. She didn't know the layout of this city and it'd be a hassle getting lost now. Only down side was her stuff was on the other side of the river.

She'd sneak out when these people's backs were turned to go on her little trip. Her cell was still on her person, the device snug in her front pocket. Fet had been stupid not to search her, very trusting she had nothing dangerous hidden on her. What good it did her know thought was completely vague.

Various turns and blocks were taken for an amount of lost time until surprisingly it was Quinlan that broke the pregnant silence.

"We need to pick up the pace. Nightfall has hours yet to reign."

Fet gave the strange man the bird behind his back, sneering as he did. Briannah rose a slender brow. Big guy had a lot of negative attitude towards the strange man apparently. Or, she glanced at the heavy breathing elder and limping grey haired companion, he just didn't appreciate the shove aimed at certain individuals.

A pack of wolves kept the old and weak ones positioned at the rear in case more fierce and larger predators caught up to them. They were used for bait, sacrificed for the rest to move on and percifer. Briannah knew this logic both from reading and experience. Being nice and kind did little in this world that favoured the strong packs.

Little by little the professor fell behind, lagging Fet and them down. Quinlan had not ceased in his quick and graceful tred, not even a glance thrown their way by those icy eyes. Briannah huffed, the hot air expelled into a small cloud. She peeked at the slowing group. Fet was unsurprisingly glaring holes in the back of their heads.

"Ya keep up with that glarin', yer face'll get stuck." Briannah snickered.

"Would it kill ya to slow down?" He had a bracing grip on the old man's shoulders.

She went to retort but the professor shook off that helping hand with a growl. "I am fine. The longer we take, the more of a possibility we have at being discovered." He huffed, breaking into a faster gait.

Briannah shrugged, mildly impressed as the elder passed then returned to the original pace. Fet didn't open his mouth again. They trudged on through the damp and filthy alleyways of New York until they finally reached a clearer area. A tall and wide building came into view as they emerged from the shadow.

If she kept track right, they were only forty-five minutes on foot from the docks. Liam had took off on the other side to the West. That didn't reveal his position but gave Briannah a hint to where she'd begin the hunt again.

They entered the establishment, the inside surprisingly in order like the chaos outside wasn't real. She spied a thin stand filled with paper on the right of the reception desk. The woman made a mental note to return and dig around for some information. Stepping onto the elevator, Quinlan pressed the plastic button for ascend; the very top floor lighting up a faint yellow.

Briannah glowered with being shoved into a box so closely to everyone else. She pressed herself as tightly as she could into the corner.

Arriving at the very top floor, they poured out into a grand foyer. The place seemed intact, damn near untouched compared to the onslaught on the streets. Briannah made a curious noise.

"This is pretty clean to everywhere else I've been." Gus explained. "There wasn't many left when we got here. Rich assholes took their money and bolted. We cleaned up the stragglers pretty good." He motioned towards Quinlan and the second old man. "Angel still got it."

Angel, interesting name. A faint grin ghosted over Angel's face before disappearing with a wince. Briannah noticed the gait in his pace, a constant limp in his right leg. An old injury left its mark apparently. Quinlan vanished like an aberration once they spread about.

Briannah stood awkwardly in the middle near the round mahogany table with still living flowers settled within. She wrinkled her nose the short white petals. Tuberose always tickled her sense of smell in a bad way.

"Make yourself comfortable, Miss Collins." The professor suggested as Fet re positioned a desk for the elder to sit. Her eyes landed on something that roused a faint smile.

"Hello alcohol!" She greeted the wide glass cabinet of various and expensive liquors.

The pain was beginning to itch and spread. It was time to block that the hell out. She sauntered around the black marble counter top and perused the selection. All these fancy drinks and so far not a single bottle of Poitín. Did these rich folks have a stick up their ass or just no taste?

Briefly, she heard Quinlan's presence return to the room. She saw Gus flick his nose in the reflective background before striding over to the icy eyed man. Well, brandy it was then...

"Yo," Gus approached Quinlan. "We good now, right? I helped you get the book, that means I'm done with this Sun Hunter bullshit."

Sun Hunter? Briannah kept her eyes trained on pouring herself a hefty glass of brandy but focused her ears on them. That was a term she had never heard of, yet when it came to the _mysterious_ race of vampires it wasn't that shocking she had not. She tipped the glass to her mouth.

"That was our accord, wasn't it?" Quinlan said, an underline growl in his words.

Hmm, so not this group wasn't close knitted as Briannah at first. She made another, listening all the while.

Gus scoffed. "You best not go back on your word, Mr. Q. I mean it. _I am out_." Did the guy have a habit of breaking his deals? It didn't seem so. Quinlan held a certain air about him that gave off discipline and authority. One certainly didn't mess with the fucker but that didn't answer the initial inquiry. She tossed a third shot.

Maybe Briannah was wrong, lad could be an utter prick for all she knew.

"The bargain was kept. There is no reason to suffice breaking it now." Briannah thought he was going to say something else but he did not.

She glanced back to read their body language. Quinlan remained the same, devoid of much emotion and hints to what was ticking in that bald head. Gus' shoulders were tense and squared in the typical gangster style but the young man didn't say another word besides the scoffing noise. He nodded then turned on his heel, departing with Angel in tow.

Neither Fet or Setrakian made a notion to question or stop them so Briannah did the same. Both wanted out obviously. 

Briannah gave a tiny wave at the retreating Spanish men as they descended via elevator. She sighed. All that remained was the old man, the giant, and the vamp. Quite the merry band they made.

* * *

She rose with a joint cracking stretch after her thighs tingled from sitting in the same position for so long. Briannah took a quick glimpse of her mobile securely tucked into her pocket. The glass screen informed her it was early morning, the sun due to fully break soon.

Her gaze swept the room. Fet was snoring on the lounge, boots tossed under the furniture. The professor was still nose buried deep in the silver cased book, hardly changing in his hunched stance. Quinlan however was entirely absent. Wonder where he wandered off to.

No matter.

Briannah placed the used glassware into the tiny sink behind the counter and trashed the empty bottle. She stifled the curious itch to venture downstairs and rummage through the reception desk for anything that could give her an inkling to where exactly she was in this city of the damned. It had been a long night that leaked into the morning and frankly it left Briannah bristled at the lack of rest and food. 

Purple iris' looked about the room again, slightly perplexed.

Were they gonna just crash in the foyer with whatever their asses happened to fit on or was there other options? 

The short woman padded around to investigate. To the left of the bar was a huge kitchen stocked with a variety of canned goods, decent freezer, and some ready to consumables in the cabinets. Most of the fresh produce had rotted to uneatable piles of mush, gathering gnats and other unwanted flying pests. Briannah tossed the wasted food out of the small window near a chopping table. She wasn't going to continue smelling that awful decay. 

Departing from there, she pandered to the right side through double doors. An alcove with dark curtains and a medium sized cabinet nestled inside it was to her right. A handful of doors were ahead that lead into different types of spaces. Privates rooms for smoking and other forms of _entertainment,_ one was thankfully used for an office. An office blessed with a couch.

It was no bed but that never waved her off. Beds were a luxury when one lived in a compacted living quarters with an enormous family. Everyone piling onto a mattress fit for two people instead held almost five or six bodies. A stuffy mess is what it was. Briannah grinned at her piece of personal space belonging entirely to her. 

"Thank the stars." She yawned. 

Her pain had dulled down to a tolerable level thanks to the drinks. Yet it would return with a damn vengeance, she knew. It always did, like a shark following the trail of blood far enough to stay outta sight but close enough to strike. 

Eventually, delaying the inevitable would...

Briannah frowned as a scent became aware in the room over-top the faded smells that lingered faintly. It was like old gun oil, leather, and some underline trademark she had sniffed around outside that was slowly becoming stronger with each passing night. She scowled.

"Yer mama not teach ya that sneakin' up on people is rude?"

Quinlan had entered her claimed patch of the club damn near quieter than a mouse. She was almost impressed at how stealthy the man was. Almost.

"Well, considering you are not fully a person, does it still qualify as being rude?" He rattled.

She looked at him, surprised by his boldness at the subject. "Ya got a pair of brass ones, don't ya?"

He did not response to her bait. Instead just stood there impassive as ever with his hands folded across his lap. Briannah gave him points for the perfect poker face but right now, it only irked her already brewing agitation from fatigue. 

"The hell ya doin' in 'ere?" She questioned, sliding out of her jacket and tossing it on the black wheeled chair behind the oak desk.

"My new... acquaintances have failed to keep an eye on you. I do not trust you to be out of sight."

Briannah shrugged. She wouldn't let her out of her sight either. Nana always said she was up to no good. "Smart, I guess, but I am too beat for mischief right this second."

She crossed her arms over her chest and waited for the vamp to exit yet he didn't budge. The woman glowered. "What are ya waitin' for? A pat on the back for findin' me?"

"Who are you?"

Ahh, cut to the chase this one did. Well, that just took the run out of it. Kill joy. Briannah sucked her teeth. "Ain't any of yer business, is it?" She motioned to his person. "'Sides, I don't know jack shit about you."

Quinlan didn't reply to that either. Again with the intimidate game. Guy must get his way quite often because Briannah knew some stubborn folks, herself included, but this odd ball was really unwavering. 

"Wrong question and you know it." Briannah said. Her purple eyes flicked up and down over his peculiar form. "I'd bet you've been asked that particular question often."

The corner of his long lips twitched ever so slightly. Hmm, prod at nerve did she? Briannah knew that nerve. Had intimate relationship with said nerve after it had followed after her for so long. She knew exactly how to pick and stab at it.

"I do not enjoy playing games, Collins." He growled.

Briannah scoffed. "Neither do I. Especially when it's not _my_ game."

Perhaps a hint? Would it really be cheating? Naaah, Quinlan seemed to be a smart lad. 

Briannah smirked. Purple melted away and burned silver for a fleeting moment. She kinda liked that surprised look on his pale face.

She mock saluted him with a dismissal of her middle finger. "Fuck off vamp."

His icy eyes narrowed but he vanished as quickly as he appeared. Briannah bared her teeth at the closed door. Prying bastard he was. Shaking her head, she finished her removal of clothes. Once left in her bra and jeans, Briannah flopped unladylike onto the sofa and shut her eyes in bliss. 

No snoring, no toasting body heat, no jabbing elbows or knees. Her short body did not take up anywhere near the entire length but it felt nice nonetheless. The smoldering temperature of her own body was enough to keep her warm without the aide of a cover. Briannah snuggled deep into the cushions. 

A little nap and she'd be right as rain. She ignored the stone of anxiety filling her stomach. The rest could wait for a few hours. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like it? Hate it? Lemme know.


	7. Chapter 7

Briannah sat with her legs swung over the firm couch, elbows dug into her clothes thighs, fingers raking through the long curled locks that mostly hid her dark expression that would rival a wicked storm. She really want to reach into her pocket and light up one of the two remaining cigarettes, just wanting to lean back and enjoy the smoky relief cloaking her lungs and spread the much wanted ease throughout her aching body, but denied the strong temptation.

The woman had fallen into a deep slumber like she wanted. Her bones were unsettled and muscles tense in this unfamiliar surrounding, however it was not her body that shattered the three hours of sleep. A sense of foreboding rattled her mind and followed her from the hellish dreamscape her fucked mind created right on her heels nipping like a starved dog.

Her teeth groaned as her jaw increased in unforgiving pressure. Her fingers growing tighter and tighter in the mess of red hair. That voice would not shut up!

_ Green eyes burning with contempt and distaste glared from the pitch recess of her past memory, reborn in a nightmare. “Failure isn’t an option, Collins.” _

Always sneering with contempt, glaring with disgust, and never failing to remind her of how they held her life in their hands. Briannah scoffed, rubbing the pads of her digits into the lightly spotted flesh of her face.

“Pompous pricks.” She hissed.

The anxiety was climbing higher and higher, being much more prominent than being so dismissed earlier with the throws of unexpected excitement this morning. Worry made her tongue snake over lightly yellow stained teeth while the mind raced how to fix this. Briannah did not have the luxury of playing vampire hunter with these people. Even if it did produce the means, it would not do so quickly enough.

Cell reception was nonexistent since she arrived and the Internet was like she been thrust back into the 90’s, if not worse. The network of relay cut off New York from the rest of the outside world. There had been no sure way of communication to be sent or even heard upon setting foot in this God forsaken city and that fact gave foundation to her own personal shit tower.

Liam was still active, out there with his undead buddies and in areas unknown. She hadn’t reported to  _ him _ and she had  _ nothing  _ to appease the brew of impatience and disappointment Briannah had undoubtedly created. The deal was extremely fragile as is and this set back most likely put a more impending expiration date on it.

“I am so fucked!” She growled deeply and burst from sitting to throwing on her shirt and coat. 

Her lavender eyes were narrow with raw anger as she hurried through the hallway, glowering at the time frame growing steadily thinner with each fretting heartbeat. Her chance slowly but surely slipping through her fingers without any sign of delaying. She knew it was her fault, being  as stubborn as bull she was.

She should’ve broken that old man in half like the feeble twig he was and stole that book, but no, Briannah dropped it once that silver barely touched her skin and allowed herself to be taken hostage! Oh, that stoked the embers to this fire like gasoline.

Fuckin’ embarassenin’! Caught like a pup who didn’t know any better. Her guardian would have her hide for this. If Briannah ever got home...

The door buckled and trembled at the force of her shoved used to open it. Her one track sight didn’t notice Setrakian’s started mid jump in his seat by the sound of the door slapping against the stone wall, echoing in the foyer. Nor did she see Quinlan’s mild glare at the childish behavior.

Briannah didn’t pause in her fuming stomp to shoot a glare to that text bound in ‘fuck those with an allergy to silver’. She’d wait to grab when the old man finally took a minute to snooze and Quinlan wasn’t hovering in the background. Her line of gaze did happen to see the big guy was gone. 

Perhaps she’d wait to forge an idea of the schedule around here before performing any snatches. He didn’t need to turn into an unknown factor and trip her on the way out. If anyone would be prove to be a pain in her ass, she cast a fleeting glance at Quinlan. His icy stare found her purple eyes last second. Shit.

It’d be that guy. 

She knew the landlines were dead having checked a few during her chaotic journey. Briannah  had been annoyed at the first over inconvenience but that swiftly turned to desperation and panic. Technology, the magic humanity had been hailed so triumphantly, turned out to be the most shitty thing once a single block was put in place.

Oh well, another’s folly was another’s gain, especially in this predicament New York found itself in the center of.

“You didn’t rest for long.” The professor commented while turning a page as she passed.

Briannah didn’t utter a word in return, her mind too focused on something else. Unsurprisingly, Quinlan didn’t offer up a comment yet merely watched her head towards the elevator. She restricted the shudder that wanted to shake her spine under those intense eyes.

Guy was  _ odd _ and that was saying something coming from her who was the definite oddball in her family. He wasn’t entirely human. His visage and scent gave that way without difficulty. What exactly the other half was a mystery. 

She didn’t peg anyone on looks alone as it felt wrong to do so as Briannah hated being judged on her appearance. Some were foolish enough to say she reminded them of a person who was the core of her hatred, who was the one whose fault her situation was. Then again, she didn’t have plans on sticking around here for too long did she? What did that matter?

Curiousity she supposed. Damnable quirk of nature if you asked her. 

She poked the plastic button harshly with impatience. Her muscles tensed and flexed beneath the cover of her dirty clothes. Bottom teeth nibbled on her upper lip as Briannah stood rigid before the still shut doors as the elevator rose.

It would’ve been faster if she had gone down the stairwell, Briannah scoffed. No, she refused the building urge in her limbs, the beat to which her heart now raced with. There was no time to give in and run like a carefree animal.

“You really shouldn’t wander about.” The professor warned without lifting his old eyes from the text.

“Didn’t know I was still prisoner.” She smarted off.

Quinlan didn’t give away if he was listening or not. He never moved his head or lifted his icy gaze from the papers in front of him. Briannah figured the bastard was though however but didn’t give a shit. 

As if on que the Russian, she presumed by his accent, appeared suddenly from behind the elevator’s doors startling Briannah slightly.

His bright eyes glanced her up and down before sliding around her like she was merely a thing in the way. He shrugged his coat off and placed it on the tiny round table. Smoke and the weird smell those things emitted clung to his clothes. So he had been outside.

“You goin’ somewhere?” He inquired standing haughty, waiting for her reply.

“Yeah, there’s hyped party goin’ down and I don’t want to miss it.” She spat sarcastically.

He scoffed. “Don’t let the door hit ya on the way out, freak.”

Briannah’s first instinct was to turn around and get in his face over that word as was her custom with those that pulled that card but she declined the usual response and let it roll off. For now.

“Sure thing, lad.” She growled.

That caused him to chuckle in disbelief. “ _ Lad? _ I’m like old enough to be your uncle or somethin’!”

It was Briannah’s turn to huff. “How old do ya think I am? Just ‘cause I’m short don’t mean much. ‘Sides, if I’m  _ supernatural _ ,” She wiggled her fingers in a spooky manner. “More than likely I be immortal in a sense, yeah?”

Fet pursed his lips, glancing over to the professor for some help. “Uh… she got a point?”

Setrakian sighed heavily, dropping his hands loudly on the desk. “In most cases  _ strigoi _ or,” He inclined a fingerless glove mitt towards her. “Whatever it is Miss Collins are regarded in possessing extended periods of life; at times even immortality.”

She smirked and clapped her palms. “Boom! Maybe you outta listen more to grumpy brows over there.” 

The professor shook his head at her sudden nickname and resumed his reading. Quinlan remained keeping his attention elsewhere, wherever that was. Guy resembled a statue, sitting perfectly erect and unmoving. 

“Yeah, well maybe you outta just tell us what ya are instead of hidin’ it! Can’t be worse than Mr. Half Muncher over there…” He mumbled with utter disdain aimed at Quinlan. 

Briannah rolled her eyes. If he hated Quinlan for being even half vampire, then her own standing wouldn’t be held in a more favourable light. She sneered. “Then you won’t like what I am any more than you do him.” 

She breezed past the tall man without caring to wait for his response. There was no free time for this jabbing contest. Briannah stepped into the elevator when Fet raised his voice across the room.

“Then what exactly are you?” His eyes were wide and full of fear and worry. 

Humankind always did hate and distrust what they couldn’t understand, much less control.

She spun on her heel and replied. “Sit down before ya hurt yerself.” A complimentary flip of the bird was given right before the doors shut to descend. 

Briannah smirk lingered over her childish victory until the lower she became, the more that weight pressed down on her chest. Her fingertips tapped to a tune orchestrated by the impending doom that awaited in her mind. The pain flared over being again, adding more gusto to the horrid melody flowing throughout her limbs.

“Shutter the pain,” She mumbled, leaning against the cool metal frame. “Shutter the fucking pain.”

It was just a tingle, like static being projected over her body. Right now it was ignorable, tolerable, but it wouldn’t stay that way. Her mouth watered for something with a kick to it, dull even the vaguely annoying buzz, however there was no fleeting minutes to waste. 

Why wasn’t this damn box at the bottom yet? She grit her teeth as aggravation began to set in. Impatience ruled her mostly, guiding her paths and ultimately getting her lost more than once. Fucking cursed wrapped in gift paper. It worked often, getting Briannah wanted she needed or wanted. Although currently it was going to hinder her. 

Especially considering Liam was steps ahead again. He rarely got the upper hand on her. Always a race between them, one having to be being faster or smarter. They hadn’t changed much since their youngin’ days. Hell, if anything did change, they grew the worse for it.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Briannah frowned, rubbing the charm as usual when stress started to get at her. It’s rough and cracked edges soothing in a way.

She assumed this job would be easy considering their past but it proved was Briannah had been clueless. Growing up with someone doesn’t always meant you’ll know the person in every detail. On that day Briannah had torn all of that apart and buried it, nearly forgotten until this disaster. 

Of course they’d drag her into this- whatever this actually is. This undead assault or invasion of the damned involved Liam, who recently was believed to be missing. He had gone completely dark ten years ago. His sudden and bold resurfacing caught all their attentions. And thus, she was shoved into the wolf’s den.

The elevator dinged, signaling its arrival to the entrance. Briannah huffed and smoothed back her wild curls. She couldn’t really complain. After all, the bargain they presented had been too good to pass up.

Briannah stepped out onto the waxed marble floor. 

Expensive name brand furniture stood atop dark carpets, not tobbled over or moved ajar in the slightest. Mostly everything was intact, as it was intended for display and minor comfort. Gus seemed to be correct in the rich folk hauling ass when the going got tough. Oh well, was it that shocking?

The reception desk was chaotic, littered with multiple papers and abandoned lunch. The PC hadn’t even been turned off. A 20 by 20 screen showed random emails, some entailed the fretting worker’s last documented words left unsent. She skimmed through the files and various types of letters that decorated the desk.

Nothing was of importance. 

She shrugged and gave the phone a go. That eye rolling noise blared in her ear. Figured.

Slapping the cord phone down on the cradle, Briannah wandered over to where she first saw something that may be useful. The light coloured wood stand came up to just her navel due to her short height. A scowl twisted her lips. 

“Blast this place to hell!” Briannah growled, stepping away from the stacks of outdated newspapers.

Her boots thick soles echoed loudly with her annoyance in the rounded hallways. There wasn’t much to snoop about down on this level besides the restrooms, a few offices for employees, and a lunch area. Briannah rose a mildly intrigued brow when she passed said room midway. 

This personnel space was mostly in place, only one or two metal chairs tipped over. A vending machine for snacks and carbonated drinks on the far wall. Opposite stood a tiny kitchen and refrigerator, cupboards looking to be untouched. She opened the five drawers to mainly canned goods and sealed bags of crackers, dried fruit, and chips. 

Shrugging, Briannah snatched a roll of Ritz and larger plastic bag of dried oranges. It was start, anything stave off the hunger at this point. Things often farther south that anyone wanted to travel if she left it go unchecked.

The woman raided the regular sized fridge at the behest of rumbling stomach. 

A lot of the foods had gone to pot as they were fresh the last this door had been opened, but it seemed some items toughed it out. Surprisingly enough, two particular meaty sandwiches had done more than tough it out. Both appeared to be newly prepared. No part visible of the meal looked to wilted or rock hard.

Briannah decided to take the pair of sandwiches and take a seat for the moment. She laid her goodies on the flat surface of the table and went to fetch a knife to cut the bread in half. She pulled open the first drawer to discover it was completely empty. 

Raiders, she thought. 

Not paying it any mind, she searched the next three drawers. Each were vacant as the previous, not even a spoon or butter knife left behind. Briannah pursed her lips.

“I get you lot are going through a rough period but damn, leave a girl a straw at least.”

Sighing, she propped up a folding chair and settled on eating the crackers and fruit. As she chewed on the snacks, she wondered why she was even doing this. Wasting time was what she was doing, she grumbled. The food was needed but she could eat this on the way; yet here she was sitting in an employee dining room, twiddling her thumbs!

Stalling, you’re fucking stalling. Why?

_ She _ wasn’t wanted here anyway. Big man’s scowling and distrusting glances were more than enough to convey that fact. 

Briannah couldn’t pin it. It kept escaping her like bait on a reel. She had been in a rush, had she not? Where the sudden lax attitude come from?

As quick as the question came, she blinked as if struck from a daze. The bag of fruit was empty and half the Ritz were eaten. She wasn’t a fast eater. How long had she been sitting here?!

“I know I’m lazy but this a tad much.” She growled, standing from her seat.

There was something fishy going on however, Briannah couldn’t tell just what. Forgetting the crackers, she returned to prowling the hallway. Her purple eyes scrutinizing every detail. 

Nothing appeared to be out of whack, everything she had passed still the exact setting it was placed. She briefly wondered if she was getting paranoid. It wouldn’t be far off but it didn’t feel right.

She continued on her little ransack towards the remaining unturned places, unwrapping the turkey and ham with lettuce, tomato and mustard sub like food and took a bite. Briannah wandered pretty aimlessly with a minor subconscious thought floating around over getting a handful of clothes before booking it. She had only brought what she had on, believing this task was easy. 

Frankly this outfit need a thorough wash and she was definitely not about to stand around naked while they dried.

Thankfully one of the three final rooms provided her this gift. Luckily, this individual seemed to live at this establishment and kept a spare wardrobe stashed in an impressive hutch in their office. Briannah ignored the framed photos of the person’s personal life as she didn’t want to feel like she was robbing a grave. The probability of this woman even being alive was slim.

A deep frown formed on her spotted face with each article of clothing she picked through. Woman must’ve been built like a Barbie doll as waifish as these outfits looked! Briannah shook her head, mumbling through her stuffed mouth. “Fuckin’ Americans…”

Pants weren’t too much of an issue, she could just roll the bottoms up a bit and they’d be fine until her own clothes that fitted her short self was clean. It was the damned shirts that gave her a fight. Briannah was positive the last owner was a stick because if she fully buttoned the blouse up, the buttons would pop either from her bust or torso in general.

She wasn’t fat yet she wasn’t danity neither.

More like thick, toned from her fighting and genes. Her arms would manage as the shirt was short sleeved but it fit too much like a glove everywhere else. Built like a sturdy house her guardian would always say when someone had to comment on her shape. 

Tucking the begrudging attire under her arm, Briannah went to change when her hip knocked the desk and rattled it. The items shuddered but none fell. She sighed, rubbing her face but looked back on the surface of the furniture. Again, more objects were missing: pens, paperclips, any office material you’d think of was gone.

Briannah wrinkled her nose. A familiar yet different scent was faint on the desk. The trail it left behind wasn’t fresh but it wasn’t entirely cold either. Her purple eyes widened as her brain put the pieces together.

 

“You gotta be kiddin’ me,” She growled, dashing back upstairs to the penthouse.

* * *

 

 

Quinlan was up on his feet now, trekking the same invisible path over and over. His fingers had absentmindedly taken that precious item from its protected spot and gently pawed it out of habit. He hadn’t noticed until the professor spoke up.

“She’s been gone awhile.” He observed. 

“I can still hear her heart. She’s within the building yet.” Quinlan informed, keen ears picking up on her hastened return. 

“Hmm, good.” The elder rose from his chair and joined Mr. Fet in the kitchens. 

The Born would have stayed and awaited Collins to discover why she was in such a hurry if Setrakian had not called for his presence. He quickly stuffed the object back in his pocket and entered upon requesting. Both mortals sat at the metal table with bowls in front of them. Mr. Fet did not spare him a glance. Almost did Quinlan forget was the childish behavior grown humans could display. 

He let that slide as he cared little for getting on friendly terms with these fellows.

“Yes?”

“What is your opinion of Miss Collins?” The professor asked, bringing a spoon to his mouth.

Quinlan furrowed the flesh of his brow. That was a rather out of the blue inquiry. He didn’t know much of the woman except her secretive nature and odd scent. Why did this matter?

“I barely know the woman to build a firm opinion of her. Why do you ask?” He questioned.

He swallowed. “She is not that different from you, is she?”

“I’m afraid I don’t follow.” Quinlan knew, felt it more so, that something was… unique about Collins but to say that? 

“She ain’t fully human.” Mr. Fet spat.

His gaze narrowed at the large man. “Yes. I heard your  _ comment _ earlier.” One of the many words Quinlan hated.  “Yet how exactly is she similar to me?

The professor said nothing further and continued with his meal. The dhampir rattled. He was full of mystery this old one. Yes, he understood Collins was more than the eye comprehended but  _ what  _ was another story. Quinlan hadn’t come across any with her particular scent. If anything jogged his mind for clues it was-

The doors smacked open with force, surprising the exterminator. Quinlan hid his grin at the large man’s aggravation of spilling his soup on his jeans. Collins had barged in looking vexed.

“Any of ya notice anything out of the ordinary?” She wondered.

“Well, there’s masses of vampires outside drainin’ folks so…” Fet grumbled, trying to wipe the mess clean. 

“Out of the ordinary how?” The professor asked, turning to look at her.

“Stuff missin’ like forks, pens, shit that’s got a shine to it.” She explained.

Quinlan hadn't seen anything that fit her description move in the past hour except by the hands of Fet and Setrakian. The tips of his ears flicked when a slight noise scurried in the background. By the heart rate and speed, he guessed it was a mouse and let it be but Collins’ whole expression changed at the sound.

She dashed past him with alarming swiftness and jumped over the counters, crashing into the pots and pans on the other side. 

Fet rose his upper lip, leaning over the table. “Uhhh, what da hell?”

“I haven’t the faintest…” The old man mumbled.

Quinlan watched as the professor shakily rose and went to investigate. He shook his head but followed anyway. They turned the corner to see Collins in the middle of a pile of dishes, holding tightly onto a topped pot. 

“What earth?” 

Collins growled at the steel pot as it suddenly lurched in her grasp. The professor jumped at the unsuspected movement. Quinlan, on the other hand, approached curiously. What had she caught in kitchen ware?

“Thought I smelled you tiny fuckers.” She hissed, getting to her feet while carefully keeping a strong hold on the pot’s lid.

“What’s goin’ on?” Fet finally came around. “Wait, did she actually grab somethin’?”

Quinlan hinted the air and did pick up on a strange fragrance coming from the pot. He was quite close to her now and could even notice the faintest trace of the same scent coming from both of them. It wasn’t like anything he had ever smelled before.

“You won’t believe me even if I showed ya.” She grumbled at him, curling the pot into her chest.

“Show  _ me _ .” Quinlan didn’t mean for it to come out as command but it did. He was very curious to get a peek at whatever Collins captured. 

She blinked at him, as if only aware of his close presence just now. She rose a brow at him.

“ _ You  _ haven’t seen one?” Collins gawked.

Was it that shocking to her? Why?

“It’s just a-” She cut herself off when realization flashed over her expression.

Collins glanced at the professor. “Where’s the Lumen?”

“In the foyer. Why?” Fet replied instead.

“Go make sure.” She insisted. 

Fet went to argue but the old man turned on his heel and went to check himself. Quinlan heard his heart kick up a notch in anxiety. 

“Damn it!” He cursed, causing Vasiliy to go quickly to his side. 

Quinlan shifted his icy eyes to her. He already knew the moment the words left her mouth.

“Where’d it go?!” Fet’s loud voice boomed across the room.

The hybrid didn’t care for the book. It was a meaningless stack of bound pages that were claimed to be cursed. Whatever his father wanted it for was not important.

“The suspect is in your grasp I take it.” Quinlan nodded towards the unknown thing caged in the pot within Collins’ hold.

“Yup but that’s only half the problem…” She whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said it was going to get interesting yes?


End file.
